


The World Still Turns

by hrrytomlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Angst, Astronaut louis, Childhood Friends, Don't worry, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Marriage Proposal, No Smut, Sad with a Happy Ending, Teacher Harry, gone a bit wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrrytomlinson/pseuds/hrrytomlinson
Summary: They had their eyes on the stars.Harry and Louis have known each other since they were tiny little boys, both wildly obsessed with airplanes, space, and the stars. More than twenty years later, Harry plans to propose to Louis, but when he wakes up, Louis is gone.





	The World Still Turns

**Author's Note:**

> I've been literally dying to share this fic with everyone. I'm so, so proud of it! I just want to say a massive thank you to [Jacky](https://dimpled-halo.tumblr.com) for putting this together and reblogging it at just the right time for me to see it on my dash lol! Infinity is my favorite MITAM song and writing a space fic based off it has been a dream. Infinity has been played in my current iTunes library over 600 times by now... If I hadn't had to wipe my library a year ago it'd probably be over 1000 plays. (I always listen to it on place rides nonstop bc it gives the perfect aesthetic!)
> 
> The highest praise goes to the most perfect beta ever who polished the crap out of my word vomit and made my writing shine, so PLEASE go follow [B on tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com) and read her MITAM Olivia fic when it comes out (and her other fics)! 
> 
> Anyway. Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos and a comment if you liked it? Maybe give [my tumblr post](http://hrrytomlinson.tumblr.com/post/164972862885/the-world-still-turns-by-hrrytomlinson-pairing) a reblog? Also this fic gets really sad and angsty and you can totally come yell your heart out at me on [tumblr](http://hrrytomlinson.tumblr.com/) when you get sad because I even got sad writing this LOL!

The tiny little velvet box has been driving him nuts for weeks, for _months._ Everyday, when he gets home from work, he can’t help but gently run his fingers over the texture of the ring box. His breath catches in his throat every time his finger skips over the short dense tufts of fabric. As he balances the weight of the box in the palm of his hand, its heaviness causes his heart to skip a beat. He would gladly let his heart skip a thousand beats if it meant he could put this ring on the finger of his true love. The possibilities that this tiny, expensive box holds are everything and even more than what he can imagine.

Whenever Harry steps foot in his and his boyfriend’s bedroom after a long day, he thinks today is the day. Today is the day he’s finally going to propose to the love of his life. Today is the day he’s finally going to be able to say Louis Tomlinson is _his._

He takes the tiny, royal blue box in his hands and sits on the edge of their bed. As he rolls the box back and forth between his palms, he lets his daily worries ebb away. The stress he carries on his shoulders disappears, the tiny voice in his head telling him that he needs to grade those lab reports tonight finally quiets, his heart slows down until he can hear it beating in his ears. He lets himself envision a permanent future with Louis. He closes his eyes, forgetting all about his job, his worries, and the grocery shopping and laundry that needs to be done. He closes his eyes and lets himself dream about a beautiful future, his and Louis’ future, with children, pets, and a whole bunch of love.

Harry squeezes his eyes closed even tighter, scrunching up his face so hard it hurts. _God,_ he wants that so bad. He wants it all, so, so bad. He wants to build a life, a family, and a home with the man he loves.

***

Harry and Louis have known each other since they were tiny little boys, both wildly obsessed with airplanes, space, and the stars. They met at the age of six and eight, both running away from their moms as soon as they entered the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC. The pure joy and excitement the little boys had as soon as they walked through the doors of the famous museum caused them to run straight into each other, tripping and stumbling to the ground before they even reached the first exhibit.

They instantly became best friends once they rose to their feet. Louis grabbed Harry’s hand in his own, said sorry for knocking him down, introduced himself as Louis William Tomlinson, and promptly asked Harry if he liked space.

Anne, Harry’s mother, always recounts the story with humor in her voice. “Harry just looked at Louis, mouth hanging open, like the older boy had all the answers to the universe. He couldn’t stop staring at the eight year old boy that held his hand and showed him every single secret in that darn museum.”

It was only through pure luck that both families lived in the same city, only a fifteen minute car ride separating them from each other’s houses. They just couldn’t get enough of each other. Their friendship blossomed into a beautiful bond.

Most, if not all, of Harry’s fondest memories revolve around time spent with Louis. They revisited the National Air and Space Museum each summer, the almost three hour car ride a joint Styles and Tomlinson tradition. Harry remembers lying in the grass of Louis’ backyard, which was bigger than his own, during the warm summer months as they read giant picture books about airplanes and space travel. He remembers countless Star Wars movie marathons during the winter, both wrapped tightly in warm blankets as they curled together on Harry’s couch with mugs of hot chocolate in their hands. He remembers fighting with Louis over which Star Trek television series was better. To this day, Louis still insists Next Generation is superior, but Harry just rolls his eyes, knowing deep down inside that Enterprise will always be the best.

Harry remembers sitting on the tiny roof off the side of his bedroom after he and Louis climbed out the window around midnight one random summer night. They sat in silence and looked at the stars, pointing out the constellations they knew by heart.

“How many nights do you think it would take to count the stars, Lou?” Harry had asked, voice quiet and shaky.

Louis had hummed, actually thinking about his answer. “Infinity,” he said, voice just as soft, eyes still glued to the heavens above as Harry stared at his best friend’s profile.

Harry remembers, with his heart lodged in his throat, telling Louis that he was gay that same night. He remembers the immediate hurt he felt when Louis laughed, and the instant relief he felt when Louis said he was gay too, a smile plastered to his face.

Harry remembers every science class in high school. He and Louis only shared their advanced science and engineering courses together, separated by two years in every other subject. He remembers both of them fighting for their teacher’s attention as they attempted to answer every question posed to the class. They were the Dream Team. Nobody could beat them in the classroom, even if nobody cared enough to. They spent every second of their free time with Mr. Kamal, their engineering teacher, listening to him tell stories about the times he worked for NASA before he became a teacher. They vowed one day they would both work for NASA too—as astronauts, even. They had their eyes on the stars.

***

Harry finally opens his eyes and takes one last long look at the ring box nestled in his palms. He wants today to be the day, but as his eyes rake over the familiar sight of blue, his heart knows that it’s not. His heart begs him to wait, just a little longer. Harry agrees; he knows he’s not ready. _One day,_ he promises, sighing to himself. One day he’ll have the guts to do it.

With a deep sigh, Harry stands and hides away the ring box. He gives it one last hopeful look before he pushes his sock drawer closed. He changes out of his work clothes and into much more comfortable sweatpants and an old college t-shirt before making his way down the carpeted stairs to the kitchen to make dinner.

The kitchen is Harry’s second favorite room of his and Louis’ home. The walls are a midnight blue, the countertops and cabinets a stark white. Every appliance and gadget is a shade of powder blue and it truly makes Harry feel like he’s in his own little galaxy. Harry’s bare feet pad across the slightly gray tiles as he crosses the space to the sink where a tiny lilac-colored radio rests on the windowsill above it. Harry plugs his phone into the dock of the radio and turns on his favorite playlist.

Harry spins across the kitchen on his tiptoes, humming along to the opening of his and Louis’ favorite song. He pulls out the defrosted chicken breasts from the fridge, placing them on the counter, singing loudly.

_“This is Major Tom to Ground Control—I'm stepping through the door and I'm floating in a most peculiar way, and the stars look very different today…”_

Harry continues singing along to song after song as he prepares dinner, in his own little bubble. Sometimes, when Harry is alone like this, he likes to pretend that he’s in a special space of his own—not the space Louis has been lucky enough to visit, but Harry’s own special system of stars and planets that’s been created just for him, for his own travels and discoveries.

After Louis and Harry have a nice little night in together—dinner with just a touch too much wine (per usual), two loads of laundry washed, folded, and put away, and the new episode of Cosmos watched—they fall into bed together. They hold each other closely and kiss delicately. The kisses they exchange are Harry’s favorite kinds of kisses: the ones with promise, the ones with meaning, the ones so soft and so full of love.

As sleep overtakes them, Harry’s last thought is that he does want this forever. He loves holding his boyfriend in his arms every night and every morning, but he wants to hold his husband. He wants the first person he ever fell in love with to be the only person he’s in love with, for the rest of his life. He wants what he has forever and he wants to take the steps towards forever to start now.

***

“When everybody wants you, Lou—” Harry shook his head in disbelief, not wanting to finish his thought. _I get jealous._ “Everybody wants _you._ ”

Harry and Louis had sat at Jay’s round wooden kitchen table staring at the pile of college acceptance letters. Louis was going to graduate high school in just a few short months and all these colleges were practically begging for Louis to go to their institutions. To Harry, it was clear that Louis was the star child—the one literally everyone wanted. Louis had the nerve to go after his goals, the talent and brainpower to study any field of science he wanted, the charisma and charm that got him everything he wanted, and, most importantly, Harry could see that all these schools wanted Louis for his uniqueness. Louis had the ability to bring something different and Harry knew, he always knew.

Louis had chosen the best school possible out of all his options. He would stay very close to home, close to his family, and more importantly, close to Harry. Harry and Louis had thankfully kept in contact, they had kept their best friend status, even though Harry was a junior in high school and Louis was a freshman in college.

A year later, when it was finally Harry’s turn to join Louis at college, just like they had always planned, Harry found himself two steps behind Louis. He had always been two steps behind, and when Harry was mailed more rejections than acceptances, that much was very clear. Harry didn’t tell Louis he was rejected from his school, too afraid to see the look of pity on his best friend’s face. It was their dream to study space together at an institution they both loved, but Harry had to be the one to screw that all up. Instead, Harry had decided to go to a less prestigious school that neighbors Louis’.

Their schools practically shared the same campus, so they never went a day without seeing each other. They made friends from both schools, mingling and creating a clique of smart, unique individuals. They even spent the whole summer together, doing the same thing they did as boys—lay in Louis’ backyard, but this time their reading material was more heavy and dense.

During Harry’s second year and Louis’ second-to-last year (his program had him graduate in five years, rather than the traditional four), the pair finally decided that it was time to get an on-campus apartment together. It was pure domestic bliss for Harry.

Harry loved seeing Louis every day again, just like they were back in high school. They stargazed from their tiny rickety balcony, wrapped tightly in a quilt handmade by Jay. They gossiped about their peers, their professors, their friends. They complained about their courses over home cooked meals Harry made almost every night; they shared their accomplishments over take out dinner Louis ordered on those other nights. They cuddled on their couch watching horrible space-themed movies on Netflix, not paying attention to the plot, instead talking over the film trying to fix all the inaccuracies. They fell asleep together in Harry’s bed when Louis got his heartbroken; they woke up together in Louis’ bed when Harry got stood up.

Harry loved seeing Louis every day. Then Harry realized he was _in love_ with Louis.

***

“Hello, darling!”

Harry chews on the end of his pen and shuffles back into his chair. The wheels on the bottom cause him to roll, but he grabs the edge of his desk and tucks himself back under. He takes one last glance at the clock on the wall and checks the door across the room to make sure it’s closed.

“Hi Jay,” Harry smiles, his chest warming as he hears the voice of the women who is practically his second mom. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Jay lightheartedly chuckles. “Of course you aren’t, dear. But what about you? Aren’t you at work right now?”

Harry’s eyes flick to the door of his classroom, students walking by but luckily none coming in. “I have a free period right now. Was hoping you and I could fit in a nice little chat. If you aren’t busy, I mean.”

The two talk about their weeks, everything that happened between their last phone call and now. Harry updates Jay on how Louis is, because he’s never fully truthful to his mom when it comes to how hard he’s pushing himself mentally, emotionally, or physically, not wanting her to worry. He knows Harry will tell her eventually, anyway. He makes Jay laugh when he tells her about how he tripped walking up the stairs the other night trying to chase Louis around their house after he tried eating all the homemade cookies that Anne sent to them in the mail. Jay tells Harry all about Doris and Ernest and how well they’re doing in school. He pouts when he hears science is still their least favorite subject.

“If only _I_ could be their teacher—they’d have so much fun!” he whines.

Jay chuckles. “If only, darling. If only you didn’t live seven states away.”

Harry listens as Jay gushes about the spa day Dan treated her to on a whim last week Saturday, basically a giant kid-free day with massages, lots of fresh fruits, and all her girl friends. Jay updates Harry on all the other girls too, which is nice to hear. He hasn’t spoken to any of them for month or so. He’ll have a to plan a giant family skype session soon, especially since—

Harry clears his throat, their small talk finally slowing day. “So, um, Mom?” Harry only calls Jay _Mom_ when he needs his own mother for emotional support and she’s unavailable, or when he’s really, really scared or anxious. This situation just so happens to check off every box. “You know how I’ve been, um, wanting to—to propose to Louis?”

Jay hums on the other side of the phone, urging him on. He takes a deep breath and swallows hard.

“I’ve been thinking and. Well. I’ve been thinking about having, maybe, a nice dinner? At the end of this week? Friday—finally proposing then.” He stutters the whole time he tries to say it, but when it finally all does come out, he feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. He takes a look at the calendar application open on his laptop in front of him. Today is only Monday, but Friday looks so close, yet so far away all at the same time.

Harry had asked Jay for her blessing before he bought the ring months ago. He told her he didn’t know when he was actually going to ask for Louis’ hand in marriage, but he wanted to make sure she approved one hundred percent beforehand. He also told his own mom, but it felt way more significant to ask Louis’ mom first. Now _that_ phone call and conversation had been one of the scariest moments of Harry’s life—not able to see Jay’s expression, the fear that Louis could come home from work at any moment, the fear of Jay _not_ giving her blessing. It all worked out fine in the end, but Harry doesn’t think he could ever work up that much courage ever again.

Jay awes, the emotion obvious in her voice. Harry hopes she isn’t crying. “Of course Harry,” Jay says, getting choked up. She’s crying. “Of course you can marry my baby. You already had my blessing, go ahead. Don’t let anything get in the way. I’m so proud of all the things the two of you have accomplished.”

Now Harry might be crying. He pulls his phone away from his face quickly so Jay doesn’t hear his sniffles. “Thank you so much Mom. I love him so much—I love _you_ so much.”

“I love you too, Harry.”

Harry’s just about to keep rambling about how much he loves everyone in their large ass family, when his classroom door creaks open slowly. Michelle, one of his favorite students, pops her curly haired head around the door and smiles sheepishly. “Mr. Styles, I have a question about the robotics competition.”

Harry smiles, trying to discreetly wipe his tears away. If news of him crying during his free period gets out, he won’t hear the end of it. It is high school after all. “Of course, come on in. Let’s have a chat.” He turns his attention back to Jay quickly. “Sorry I have to go so soon, I have a student with me.”

“It’s okay, darling. I love you very much. Let me know how it goes.”

Harry smiles. “I will. Thank you so much, again.”

They hang up quickly and he turns towards Michelle, a new, reinvigorated smile taking over his face. He’s going to propose to Louis. He’s going to _marry_ Louis. Sooner rather than later. But first, he has his students and their bright young minds to tend to first. _Then_ he can marry Louis.

***

Finals week had Louis and Harry stressed out. So beyond stressed that they barely left their flat. So stressed that Harry hadn’t cooked a fresh meal in over week. They were so incredibly stressed out to the degree that they couldn’t even find time in their busy schedule to stargaze—homework, studying, and getting as much sleep as possible taking up every second of their nights.  

The reality of the situation was scary. Louis was going to graduate in a few weeks and he was slowly starting to hear back from the internships and jobs he applied for. Harry had another year left of college, but he still had to work his ass off in preparation for his final year in his own aerospace engineering program. He saw just how hard Louis had to work for his degree, in five years time—Harry had to work even harder, and in just four years.  

Midway through finals week, Harry had come home tired and weighed down by his brain. He tripped over their mail which was just left lying on the floor at the foot of the door. He was so tired that he was ready to start berating Louis the moment he picked the envelopes off the ground. Once he walked further into the house, though, he noticed he was all alone and instead of yelling at nothing, he fell into the couch cushions and wished Louis was there to cuddle him.

Harry had flipped through the mail, a mixture of bills and junk. He was underwhelmed until he reached the thick, cream-colored, fancy envelope at the bottom of the small stack. It was addressed to Louis and the return address was the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. NASA had sent Louis something in the mail, a letter or whatever.

Harry stared at the envelope, his body stuck to the couch for ten minutes until Louis walked into their apartment and found Harry just like that.

“NASA sent you mail.”

“NASA?”

Harry nodded. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but he couldn’t.

“Did you,” Harry tried, brows furrowing as he fumbled his words. “Um. Did you apply at NASA? Have you been talking to NASA?” Because if he had been, he didn’t tell Harry, and he told Harry everywhere he had applied to.

“No. Not at all.” Louis sat next to Harry on the couch, probably just as stunned as his best friend. Harry wordlessly handed over the envelope with no more words.

Louis got an amazing job offer from NASA. They wanted Louis, they wanted to _train_ him. Louis didn’t even have to go talk to NASA about it, he didn’t beg or plead for the position—they came to him. NASA wanted Louis to move to Florida, so Louis moved to Florida.

Harry finished college with a degree in aerospace engineering. He sat around his mom’s house (where he now lived; it was too expensive to stay at his and Louis’ apartment since Louis had moved out) everyday waiting for his own thick, cream-colored, fancy envelope, but it never came. NASA didn’t want Harry. They didn’t want him the way they wanted Louis. They didn’t want him even after he had applied for a few different positions and after an interview or two.

Harry had decided, after receiving more rejections than acceptances for internships and jobs, to enroll in another year of college and earn a teaching certificate for engineering and aerospace. When Harry had finally graduated, he applied to a bunch of schools. He also had secretly applied for schools in Florida.

Harry never told Louis. He didn’t want to seem weak. He didn’t want his best friend’s pity. He didn’t want to hear the disappointment in Louis’ voice or see it on his face. So Harry had kept it a secret. He didn’t want Louis to know that he couldn’t get into NASA—their dream job since they were little boys. He didn’t even want Louis to know that he couldn’t get a job in their field and ended up becoming a high school teacher.

A week after graduation, Harry had received replies from schools in New Jersey, New York, and Florida. He didn’t even look at the offers from any of the other school before he had sent in his acceptance to teach engineering in Florida, five minutes from where Harry knew Louis lived.

Harry had called up Louis that same night, asking if he can sleep on Louis’ couch until he finds a place of his own. Louis’ excitement had almost shattered Harry’s eardrum. Louis congratulated Harry on finally joining the NASA family and becoming a “big fancy space man engineer”; he praised Harry on following his dreams.

Harry didn’t have the heart to tell Louis that he had it all wrong.

***

It’s a quiet Tuesday night, the television volume is on low, the sun had set long ago. Harry and Louis are cuddling on their couch, their arms wrapped around each other, holding tight. Their delicious dinner of baked ziti sitting satisfyingly heavy in their stomachs.

Louis presses tiny, delicate kisses to Harry’s cheeks and neck with no rhyme or reason at all. It’s the most boring thing in the world, but every touch is just magical and Harry could feel like this for the rest of his life. He _will_ feel like this for the rest of his life, if everything goes as planned.

“Enough about me, baby,” Louis giggles, pressing another kiss to Harry’s jaw as he finally stops updating Harry about all the projects he’s working on. “How’s it going at school? Have Miles and Jonas stopped fighting over their project yet? And have you figured out what the senior’s final project will be?”

Harry giggles right back, giving Louis some kisses of his own. “Yeah, Miles and Jonas finally stopped their bickering—they had Andrew join their group and everything is smooth sailing now. They’re all so smart, babe.”

“Oh, I’m glad. I know how much you care about these kids.”

Harry nods. “I’ve also been thinking about the final end of the year project. I wanna do something fun and special. I was thinking about possibly simulating a mission? Like sending a hamster to Mars? There’s a bunch of online simulators we could use and we could pretend we’re actually mission control sending a hamster to Mars.” Harry laughs at himself. “It sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

Louis sits up, shock covering his features. “No! Not stupid, baby. It doesn’t sound stupid at all! It sounds very unique and interesting. You could have them research what goes into an actual mission, how the countdown and systems check works. You could really pull this off, I think. Like you said, they’re all so smart.”

Harry blushes. “I really want to do it. I’m just scared it won’t turn out as planned or won’t go as smoothly as I want it to, you know?”

Louis snorts. “It’s the first time you’re doing this, there are bound to be some bumps and problems. All you can do about that is learn from it and fix it the next year.”

Harry lunges forward and kiss Louis on the mouth. “I love you so much. Thank you for always supporting me.”

“Pick someone supportive,” Louis whispers before reattaching his lips to Harry’s. “Maybe I could stop by as a guest speaker and tell them all about what it’s _actually_ like at NASA and mission control.”

“Oh my god,” Harry groans. “That would be amazing.”

Louis sits up and stares at Harry from a distance. Harry whines at the loss of touch. “Is the thought of me speaking to your class turning you on?”

Harry whines again, squirming under Louis’ gaze. “You in my classroom, you talking to my students, you being smart in my classroom while talking to my students, probably in a really sexy suit—all of it turns me on.”

Louis laughs out loud and jumps off the couch, shaking his head fondly at his boyfriend. He grabs his empty beer bottle from the coffee table and makes his way towards the kitchen. Harry declines when Louis asks if he wants one.

Louis returns with a cold, open bottle of beer, a few sips already taken from it on his way back to Harry’s side. They continue their cuddles as they silently turn their eyes back to the television. Harry can’t help but think about Friday night, though, the silence and low volume of their movie not effectively distracting him.

“Louis, are you free Friday night?” Harry finally bites the bullet and asks, voice as stable and nonchalant as possible as to not give anything away.

“Of course I’m free,” Louis giggles. “What did you have in mind?”

“You, me, dinner.” Harry wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, earning another round of giggles from Louis. “Somewhere fancy. We should treat ourselves, have a little celebration—even if there’s nothing to celebrate.”

Louis smiles wide, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of it. “I would love to, baby.”

They kiss on the couch until their lips are numb. They fuck in their bed until their limbs are tired.

Harry can’t fucking wait to propose to Louis on Friday night.

***

Harry was really in a pickle. The school year was going to start in three weeks, he had to report to the school in two weeks for faculty meetings and to set up his classroom, and he still had this giant, darn crush on Louis. Louis, his best friend and the man who owned the couch Harry had been sleeping on since he moved to Florida.

Louis hadn’t asked about Harry’s lack of a job yet—he wasn’t even home during the day to notice that Harry never left. Harry never gave him any reason to notice either. He hid it well. All the supplies Harry had been buying for the upcoming school year (posters to decorate his room, extra supplies for students whose parents couldn’t afford some) had been left hidden in his car’s trunk. The slightly more professional, high school-friendly clothing had been shoved into the back of his closet before Louis got home at night.

All the secrets and anxiety had started to get to Harry though, making him feel crazy. He couldn’t tell Louis about how scared he was to meet his students. He couldn’t ask for Louis’ opinion on what he should wear for the first time he meets the full faculty. He couldn’t do anything, because in Louis’ eyes, Harry was working for NASA—just like him.

They were sitting on the couch together after dinner when Harry just couldn’t take it anymore. They had cold bottles of beer in their hands, sweating from the humidity of the Florida summer heat. Harry had a lump stuck in his throat, he struggled the whole way through a Chopped rerun to finally admit to Louis he was a teacher.

“I’m not working for NASA, Lou. They didn’t want me. I’m a teacher, a stupid teacher,” Harry choked out. “Nobody wanted me. ‘S why I stayed another year, for my teaching certificate. Nobody _wants_ me,” he cried, finally letting out the pain he had been holding in for over a year.

Louis had simply looked at him, looked at Harry crying on his couch, just like he did as a teenager in Pennsylvania, only now they’re in Florida.

“Haz,” Louis finally choked out, tears started to well in his own eyes, surprising Harry. “I will always support you, Harry, in any and everything you do, no matter if you’re an astronaut or a teacher. And I— _I_ want you.”

The words didn’t click in Harry’s mind until after Louis had pulled him into a searing hot kiss.

***

Harry rubs his hands together nervously. He has ten more minutes until the school day is over. His freshmen introduction to engineering students are finishing up tests while Harry struggles to sit still at his desk. He’s probably taking more glances at the clock than his students are, although he has a better reason to. His students just want to escape the confines of public school and enjoy their weekend, whereas Harry wants to race home so he can finally propose to his boyfriend. Soon to be fiancée. Soon to be husband.

“Five minutes left,” Harry calls. He notices some of his students that have already finished their tests sigh in relief while the others hunch even further over their papers and begin for write faster. The classroom is silent except for the sounds of rushed scribbling and the occasional creak of a chair or muffled cough.

Harry himself muffles a cough into his sleeve, hating the quietness of his usually loud and boisterous environment. He wants his classroom to be a fun place of learning, where students are allowed to experiment and enjoy science, but he’s required to test them occasionally and he dislikes it as much as his students do. He knows they all learn much more efficiently when they’re not weighed down by the fact they have to memorize twenty to fifty bullet points, and he would prefer to keep it that way.

When the bell finally rings, everyone turns in their papers and calls out kind goodbyes. Harry is packing up his schoolwork so fast he only has the attention span to nod, smile, and hum at his students’ comments.

“Have a nice weekend, Mr. Styles!”

He doesn’t even glance up from where he’s stuffing away his laptop, hands fast and extremely shaky. “You too!”

“See you Monday, Styles!”

Harry turns his back to quickly grab a folder off the windowsill behind his desk. _He has to leave, now._ “See ya!”

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry shoves his last remaining item, his favorite Contigo water bottle, into his backpack. “Have a good weekend!” he randomly shouts at whoever is left, hoping he can escape fast.

Harry finally turns to face his classroom, now completely disheveled. Chairs aren’t pushed in under the lab benches like they’re supposed to be, scrap paper used during the test litters the floor, the whiteboard still has remnants of his scribbles from his advanced engineering class. Harry sighs heavily and his shoulder slump. The mess means he has to stay that tiny bit longer to clean up—he likes everything to be neat and orderly. Everyone seems to have exited the room as quick as possible, like Harry is trying to do, except for the one person currently standing in front of his desk with a worried expression on their face.

“Mr. Styles, are you okay?” his student repeats.

Morgan stands in front of Harry’s desk, her glasses pushed high on her nose. She’s holding physics textbooks in her arms close to her chest, her backpack hanging by one strap off her shoulder. Her chestnut brown hair is long and messy, her hands are covered in lead from her pencil from rubbing over her writing so many times while taking her test. She’s always been a fast thinker and fast writer; Harry appreciates her love for science, making her his favorite freshman student. (Not that he would tell the others.) The slight freckles on her cheek create a constellation and Harry chooses to stare at that rather than looking at her worried eyes.

He rubs the back of his neck and lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, I’m fine. Was just hoping to get out of here quickly, but it looks like I have to clean up first.” Harry walks out from behind his desk and heads toward the front of the room where he can start cleaning equations and notes off the board. He just wants to go home and get ready for tonight.

“I can give you a hand, Styles. I don’t have anywhere to be,” Morgan says, already placing her books on the closest table and slinging off her backpack.

“Oh no, Morgan. You don’t have to. I can handle this.” He always feels bad having his students help him with simple housekeeping tasks like cleaning or organizing, but he secretly loves it when they offer a hand—it makes life so much easier.

“It’s okay, I want to help,” she shrugs, bending to the floor to start gathering crumpled pieces of loose leaf.  “What’s gotcha in such a rush anyway?”

Morgan’s simple question causes Harry to pause in the middle of pushing a chair under the top of the lab bench.

Everyone in the school knows he’s one of two gay teachers—after all, he and the fabulous junior english teacher Ms. Rami run the school’s LGBTQ+ club together at lunch on Tuesdays—but he still prefers to keep most of his private life, well, private. They know he has a boyfriend, but that’s as deep as their knowledge goes.

If Harry were to marry Louis though, that would be something he would want to share with his students. But he hasn’t even proposed yet, so he doesn’t want to get too ahead of himself.

Harry decides that stretching the truth would be the best route to take. “Going on a special date tonight and want to get home in time.”

“Ooooh! Mr. Styles got a hot date!” Morgan gushes, causing Harry to blush intensely. Morgan starts giggling at his reaction, embarrassing Harry further.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough out of you, young lady,” Harry chuckles. “Thanks for helping. Would’ve been much slower without you.”

They gather their items and walk out of Harry’s classroom together. He shuts the lights off and locks the door behind them, but not without thanking Morgan one last time.

“It was honestly no problem, Mr. Styles. Have a good weekend.” She turns to walk away, but not without turning around one last time, winking. “And good luck tonight!”

Harry knows she doesn’t know what she’s wishing him good luck for, but the sentiment still warms his heart immediately and puts a pep in his step as he walks from the third floor to the first and out to his car.

His commute home is short and sweet, thankfully, so he has enough time to shower and get ready for date night before Louis comes home. His nerves return halfway through the journey though, which is never a good feeling.

Harry really, really wants to marry Louis. His nerves aren’t stemming from the fear that Louis might say no to him—they love eachother way too fiercely. Harry has just always had a shy and reserved personality. Louis kissed Harry first, Louis took Harry on a date first. Harry is going to propose to Louis first and making such a large step in his life, whether it’s marriage or whatever, is scary, no matter what—especially if he’s the one initiating it. At the same time though, Harry doesn’t want to wait around for Louis to propose first. Harry is eager to be Louis’ husband and he’s going to get that, one way or another.

Harry’s nerves evaporate under the water of his shower, disappearing as if they were never there. He feels cool and calm, like he’s ready to take on the world with Louis by his side forever. He feels invincible.

Although his nerves have left him, Harry still spends way too much time in front of his and Louis’ walk in closet, wrapped solely in a tiny towel, trying to decide what to wear. Harry always tries to look his best, so it’s already challenging enough to look nicer than he does on an ordinary day. Still, when it comes to date nights he tries to step it up a notch. He ends up settling on a pair of his favorite tight black skinny jeans, a slightly sheer white button-up flowy top, and a black blazer. If they were more into the summer months instead of the beginning of April, he might even be tempted to pair the look with a white hat, but if he did that tonight, Louis would only make fun of him.

He’s about to pad out of their bedroom in his socked feet, but he turns on his heel and skips towards his sock drawer instead. He opens the drawer, but not before looking to his right and to his left—double checking that Louis hasn’t silently snuck his way home while Harry was getting dressed—and reverently pulls out the blue velvet ring box. He quickly checks inside of it to see if the ring is still nestled in protectively—which it is—before sliding it into his blazer’s pocket. He checks himself out in the mirror before exiting the bedroom, making sure the square shape isn’t visible through the fabric. Once he’s sorted out, he makes his way to the kitchen.

Harry sits himself at the table thinking that maybe he can write up some lesson plans before Louis gets home, but as soon as Harry settles himself in front of his laptop, a cold glass of water with him, he hears the front door open. A smile spreads across his face instantly. Louis is home.

“In the kitchen, love!” Harry calls. As he waits for Louis to kick off his shoes and drop his bag into their shared office, Harry tries to will his smile into a less manic grin. He can’t give away the surprise. They have a few hours to go and Harry needs to chill out.

“Hi, baby,” Louis greets rounding the corner. His voice has a slight stutter to it, but Harry is too distracted by the bouquet of flowers in his boyfriend’s hand to notice. Harry pushes away from the table, needing to get his arms around Louis as soon as he sees him and the slightly nervous smile on his face.

Harry hugs Louis fiercely, his arms wrapping entirely around his frame. Louis chuckles as Harry rubs his face into the space between Louis’ neck and his shoulder. “Baby,” Louis giggles as Harry starts peppering his skin with sweet kisses. “Hi, baby, hi. I’ve missed you too.”

Harry finally pulls away from Louis, still keeping his arms around him. “Hello,” he whispers, biting his bottom lip. “I’m excited for tonight. Are these flowers for me?”

“They’re for my other boyfriend,” Louis jokes, rolling his eyes. “Of course, they’re for you, Harold. Now do you wanna put them in a vase while I go shower? Don’t wanna be late for our reservations.” Louis leans in and seals his lips against Harry’s for a quick snog. They pull apart too fast for Harry’s liking, but Louis is right, he needs to get ready. But Harry still wants kisses.

Louis finally manages to escape Harry and the shower of kisses he was trying to rain down on his boyfriend in hopes of distracting him.

Harry sighs to himself as he moves around the kitchen, finding this favorite flower vase in the cabinets above the fridge and filling the clear glass with cold water. He arranges the bouquet delicately and places it in the center of the now clear kitchen table. Harry didn’t get any work done tonight, and if tonight goes as planned, he probably won’t be getting any work done over the weekend either.

Harry leans against the kitchen counter as he stares at the flowers, imagining how his and Louis’ future is going to pan out. It’s all so close and so real, Harry can almost taste it. He lets himself daydream as Louis gets ready. He dreams of slowly pulling the ring box out of his pocket and presenting it to Louis over their shared dessert this evening. He dreams of a silent, happy, tearful proposal where no one, not even the table next to theirs, knows what’s happening. He dreams of a loud, emotional, explosive proposal where they cry loudly and the whole restaurant applauds for them. He dreams of walking back to their car after dinner and falling to his knee in the middle of the sidewalk, under a streetlight. He dreams of coming back home after it all happens, pushing Louis up against the door, rushing to attach his lips to Louis’ lips, to Louis’ neck, to Louis’ _cock._ He dreams of Louis opening him slowly and delicately on their bed, the cold metal of the ring on Louis’ finger meeting and pushing against his rim each and every time.

Harry pulls himself out of his daydreams when he feels a twinge of arousal in his stomach. He realizes, a little too slowly, that he’s getting a hard on in the middle of his goddamn kitchen right before he and Louis are about to go on their date. He feels a bit too ahead of himself and expels any thought related to Louis’ hands, lips or cock. He needs to slow his roll.

By the time Louis reappears, dressed handsomely in his own black skinny jeans and a maroon long sleeve shirt with a wide open neckline, Harry’s erection has disappeared, thank god. Harry smiles as Louis stands in front of him, his beauty too much for words. Louis’ sleeves are pushed up to show off his wrists, his pants leg rolled up to expose his ankles, his hair pushed up and off his face to showcase his bone structure.

Harry is so fucking in love with him, and he tells him so.

“I’m so fucking in love with you, too, H,” Louis smiles shyly.

Their drive to the restaurant is fast and painless—for the most part. Harry keeps trying to discreetly check his pocket every five minutes, making sure he has the ring box with him. It’s in his pocket, every time he checks, but he still does. You know, just in case.

Their favorite restaurant, Brittany’s Bistro, was the first real restaurant they had ate at together in Florida that wasn’t McDonald’s. They decided to have a nice meal together after Harry had moved all his things into Louis’ place and when they drove into town, Brittany’s was the first place they saw. The delicious food and wonderful staff had them returning time and time again. It was the restaurant Louis had taken Harry for their first date. It’s the restaurant they celebrated their first anniversary at. The owners Liam and Sophia know them quite well by now, in fact, they’re all really close friends, so Harry and Louis always receive special treatment when they reserve a table.

The atmosphere of the place is absolutely magical and as Harry and Louis sit there at their table, Harry can’t help but look at how Louis shines beautifully in the glow of the candles on their table instead of studying his menu. Even as Louis bites his lip and fidgets with the cardstock in his hand, Harry can’t seem to take his eyes off his boy. As he’s staring, Harry notices that Louis seems nervous.

Harry has a reason to be nervous; he’s going to propose to Louis tonight. Why would Louis feel the same?

***

Harry had stood with Jay, all of Louis’ siblings, and his own mom at the LC-39 Observation Gantry, the closest viewing area to the launch pads of the Kennedy Space Center. The rocket stood erect, its nose pointed toward the sky and the great unknown beyond it. The great unknown Louis would be launched into minutes later.

The first time Louis ever went to space, it was hard for Harry. Their relationship was young and fragile. They were scared the distance would hurt them, but they both knew what they were getting into. Louis trained for a mission like this for a year and Harry had time to mentally prepare himself. Louis going into space was not a breakup, it was him doing his job.

Harry had known all this, but as soon as the fire and smoke erupted from under the rocket, Harry felt his anxiety take flight. He had felt like his heart was in that shuttle, in Louis’ hands, being pulled further and further into the atmosphere and farther and farther away from Harry.

Harry and Jay had held tightly onto each other, their faces wet with uncontrollable tears, their hands squeezed tightly together, holding on for dear life. They had watched as Louis left the world, another man and a woman by his side in the capsule. Their eyes followed the spacecraft as it soared into the clouds. They didn’t once let their eyes drift away from the flying object, not even once it had disappeared from sight.

The locals, tourists, and space enthusiasts had slowly started to leave the observation platform, making their way back to their cars, chattering about the fantastic lift off and the thrill of watching another spacecraft make a trip to the International Space Station. The Tomlinson and Styles families hadn’t moved though. They had stayed until they were the last people standing at the platform, Harry and Jay’s eyes still stubbornly glued to the blue above them. Louis’ siblings had become restless, running around playing tag like their brother hadn’t just been flung into the great unknown of _space_ at 7.9 kilometers per _second._

Jay had to get herself and the girls back to the house so they could pack their luggage for their flight back home the next day, so Anne had to finally peel Harry away from Jay. She had held her son tight as he wept into her shoulder. In the moment, Harry wasn’t scared he would break up with Louis, he wasn’t scared that the distance would end his relationship—he was scared he would lose Louis. As a mom, Jay was afraid of losing her son to the unforgiving depths of space. But as Louis’ boyfriend _and_ childhood best friend, Harry was afraid of seeing Louis—the person he possibly might want to spend the rest of his life with—not return to Earth.

The first moment they could, Harry and Louis had Skyped. They had Skype conversations whenever Louis had a free moment, no matter what time it was for Harry. Depending on where the International Space Station was over the globe, Harry would have to take calls from Louis during his free periods at work, or stay up till three in the morning just so he could see Louis’ lovely, brilliant, _unshaven_ face. Harry had lost a lot of sleep, but he never felt lonely. Their relationship—both as best friends and boyfriends—had never felt strained even though Louis was miles, miles, and _miles_ above Harry at any given moment.

They had each other and that was enough for them.

Harry had nightmares where he dreamed of Louis falling down to Earth. He had constant visions of Louis continually falling, his lifeless body going faster than a million miles an hour. Harry would wake up crying, trying to catch his breath some way, somehow.

Once Harry had calmed down, he reminded himself that they had each other and that was enough. Their love would be enough.

After so long of being a teacher, Harry was finally a student. He had to learn. And he did. Harry had learned during months of Louis’ residency on the ISS that he could live with Louis going to space. He learned that, yeah, it was scary and life threatening, but their love was strong enough to keep them tied together—even through the nightmares and tiny fights over Skype. Harry learned that Louis was still tied to him even when he was floating amongst the stars.

Harry learned that Louis will always be tied to him, no matter if he’s with the stars in the sky, or if he’s down on Earth with Harry. They will always be tied together, in an endless knot—an _infinity_ knot.

***

Soft music plays overhead. It mixes with the quiet hum of conversations from the many seated couples and the slight din of the waitstaff’s footsteps wandering the dining room. An occasional laugh or a loud clink of wine glasses adds a special harmony to the piano playing from the many speakers through the space.

The soft lighting of the candles peppering each table and the glow of the sconces mix beautifully with the setting sun shining through the windows. The light plays against Louis’ skin, making him shimmer. It bounces reflectively off his teeth, blinding Harry each time Louis smiles and giggles—which is often. Louis smiles so hard the corners of his eyes crinkle happily as his blue eyes shift to an even darker shade of blue as their meal progresses.

The whole time they eat, Harry wants to reach out and _touch._ He wants to run the pads of his fingers over the soft skin of Louis’ freshly shaven jawline. He wants to touch the delicate short hairs at the base of Louis’ neck. Harry wants to feel Louis’ tiny hands in his. In the moment, Louis looks so ethereal and _so_ untouchable that it makes Harry even more desperate to take hold of his boyfriend in some way. Harry kicks his feet out, tapping the toe of his Chelsea boot carefully to Louis’ shin. Louis stops mid sentence to smirk mischievously before he pulls his legs away and moves them to some unknown location under the table, causing Harry to whine because he can’t find him. Harry just wants to touch him, so much. Louis must feel bad though, because the next second he’s trapping Harry ankle in between his legs calves and smiling softly while carrying on with what he was talking about.

The air around their table smells like warm bread, delicious Italian food, and wine. It’s rich and intoxicating, especially since it mingles perfectly with Louis’ cologne, which Harry can subtly smell from where he’s sitting. Harry watches Louis carefully as he picks up his wine glass and brings it to his lips, taking the smallest of sips. They’re both still on their first small glass of merlot, not wanting to drink too much. Harry wishes he could have more to drink, but he plans on having a glass of champagne as soon as he pops the question. Besides, they can always drink more later tonight. And god, does Harry wish it was already later tonight.

Harry thinks he’s ready. He thinks he’s finally ready to propose. He covertly slides his hand into his blazers pocket, the familiar texture of velvet so welcome and familiar in the palm of his hand.

He just can’t wait any longer. He waited all throughout their main course, he just doesn’t have the patience at this point to wait until after the meal is over. He can’t even wait until dessert comes, their empty dinner plates still in front of them. The time between then and now is too much for him to handle. He doesn’t want to sit through looking over the dessert menu, he doesn’t want to sit through their conversation before the dessert arrives. He wants to do it now. He’s going to do it now.

Or so he thinks.

Because suddenly Louis’ demeanor changes.

The look on Louis’ face switches seamlessly into a look of nerves; he starts gnawing on his lower lip, his fingers fidget together with the urge to fix his fringe which is unfortunately molded into a neat quiff. Louis’ nerves only spark Harry’s all the more.

Is _Louis_ going to propose? Is Louis going to break up with him? Is Louis sick?

Harry doesn’t know what to do. He was going to propose, for fuck’s sake! He’s built up so much fucking courage over the past few months, he’s _not_ letting it go to waste if he can help it. Fuck that. Harry knows Louis has always been one step ahead of him throughout their entire lives together, but this was finally supposed to be _his_ chance to be one step ahead. He can’t believe that in mere seconds he’s already falling two steps behind.

“Lou—” Harry attempts, wanting to say _something,_ anything before Louis does whatever is making him so goddamn nervous.

“Baby,” Louis interrupts, swallowing thickly.

Harry panics. No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. Harry squirms in his seat, bites his lip, bites his tongue, grinds his teeth together—he does anything he can to stop himself from shouting _“Will you marry me?”_ before Louis could even attempt to say a single syllable. His palms sweat, his skin prickles, his eyes water. He’s scared. He wanted to propose to Louis tonight. That’s it. That’s all he wanted.

“Baby, I have something to say.”

Harry nods dumbly, not knowing what to do, what to say. He feels completely defeated. The only thing he could do right now is hope for the best as he listens to Louis’ beautiful voice deliver possible life-changing news.

“In five days, I’ll be taking off on a possible year long mission. Another residency on the ISS.”

Suddenly, the piano music playing overhead disappears. Every other person in the restaurant vanishes. The lights fade, the sun lowers beneath the horizon, blackness shrouds everything except for the single candle on their table. The glow weakly illuminates Louis as Harry feels like he’s drowning in the darkness of it all.

Harry’s frozen in place. The shards of his broken heart have pierced him from the inside out, causing him the most terrible sensation of pain he has ever felt. He’s never, _never_ felt anything like this in his whole entire life and he thought he never would, especially if he was going to spend the rest of his days with Louis. _Married_ to Louis.

Harry can’t believe Louis’ words. The ring box was _literally_ in his hand. His mouth was seconds away from saying the words he has practiced countless times.

The ring box was in his hands.

Harry swallows thickly. He hears his blood rushing in his ears. His eyes burn with unshed tears.

He doesn’t know what to do.

The ring box was _in_ his _hands._

How can the man that Harry loves with his whole entire being drop such huge, important news on him like this? How could he do something like this on such a special night? Harry wants to crawl under the table and hide.  

A year long residency on the International Space Station? Louis has been working in mission control for years now, collaborating with the current engineering team up there and guiding them step by step through repairs on the station from the comfort of a wheelie chair in an air conditioned room. Louis has probably known about this for a while. Harry chokes—Louis has probably known about this for a _long_ time. Missions like these are planned well in advance; why is he dropping it now?  

“How long have you know about this?” Harry’s voice cracks, so thick and full of pain. “How long will you be gone?”

Louis drops his eyes to the table, avoiding eye contact. When his eyes flicker back to meet with Harry’s, Louis looks weighed down with guilt. He explains how he’s known that this mission was going to happen from the start. He was one of the lead engineers organizing and planning for it, but he was never supposed to be one of the astronauts going up.

“I told them, H. I _refused._ I didn’t wanna go back up there unless I had to.”

“Then what happened?” Silent tears slide down Harry’s cheeks. They both pretend not to notice.

“Malik got hurt about a week ago. I’ve known since then. I’m the only one qualified enough to go up in his place. I’ll be gone for at least a year. That’s what they’re telling me.”

Harry stares at Louis. He’s so, so, so disgustingly sad. He can’t believe Louis let this happen, he can’t believe Louis didn’t put up a fight. This is his life, this is Harry’s life; it’s their life. And Louis made the decision. Louis told NASA _yes_ without even telling Harry first.

“I didn’t tell you, Harry, because I didn’t want it to be real. I didn’t want to be signed up for this. I don’t want to go to that fucking station. I want to stay on Earth. Here. With you. But they need me, it’s important.”

Harry feels betrayed. He feels unwanted. He feels like for once in his whole entire life, he’s not tied to Louis like he’s supposed to be, like he wants to be. He wishes Louis had told him.

In a moment of weakness, in a moment of pure _hurt,_ Harry pulls the ring box from his pocket. The velvet is no longer a comforting feeling in his palm; it burns him, makes his skin itch. The weight of it in his hand makes him sick. He was going to propose tonight.

Ever since Harry purchased the ring, he has been planning his and Louis’ perfect future together. And the sickening part is that he knew Louis would be on board with it all, one hundred percent. The one thing Harry didn’t see was _this_ happening. Louis leaving Harry.

Louis has been to space twice in the past. The weeks preparing for take off are exhausting—they both know from experience. But now Louis is telling Harry he is leaving in five days. He’s known for a week, but he decided to tell Harry five days before.

Harry can handle Louis going to space. He can and he has before. If Louis had told Harry before tonight about the mission, would Harry still have proposed or would have kept the ring in his sock drawer for yet another year? He’ll never know, because he’ll never have that opportunity, that simple _privilege_ of it being his choice. Right now Harry feels like he can’t choose. Louis is leaving.

The ring box was in his hand, goddamnit.

Tonight had so much potential. It was going to be magical, it was going to be life changing. They were going to become engaged.

He pulls the ring box from his pocket and places it on the table in front of Louis, tears flowing down his face in parallel rivers. Harry doesn’t wait to watch the look of pure shock take over Louis’ face. He doesn’t want to see the moment Louis realizes what Harry’s true intentions were tonight. He can’t.

Harry stands up, his chair legs screeching against the wooden floorboards as he abruptly rises. His heart is pounding so hard in chest, everyone in the damn restaurant can probably hear it. He hopes Louis does at the very least.

Harry tastes the salt of his tears instead of the bubbles of champagne he wanted to be enjoying right now. He feels heartbreak instead of ecstasy. He sees darkness and a dead end instead of the future and the light at the end of the tunnel. He feels like an afterthought.

He can’t believe the man he loves with all his heart, the man he wants—wanted to—marry, had done something like this to him. It’s completely unfathomable. Harry can’t believe his world is falling in on itself.

He takes one last long look at the ring box sitting in the center of their dinner table. He doesn’t dare look at Louis.

“I’ll be in the car.”

  


Louis turns the key and starts the engine, the car rattling as it comes to life. Harry resolutely stares out his window from the passenger side, not wanting to even look in Louis’ general direction.

They drive back to their house in deadly silence. No one makes a move to turn on the radio, knowing that if they did, the CD they were listening to on their way to dinner would start playing. Harry’s not really in the mood to listen to _HL Mixtape #2_ right now and he bets Louis isn’t either.

Harry can’t see much out his window, the black night sky shrouding the houses and palm trees on the side of the road. What Harry can see though, is Louis’ reflection in the glass. He really, _really_ didn’t want to have to look at Louis until they got home, but Harry has always been obsessed with Louis’ face, and his eyes just always seem to find it. Even when he’s upset with him.

Harry changes his focus to Louis’ reflection instead of trying to see past it to the world outside of the car. The image of his face is slightly distorted and not very well lit. The red taillights of the cars in front of them ignite Louis’ face in a fiery color, but the white headlights of the cars behind and adjacent to them make him glow and give him the illusion of a halo. Harry hates how pretty Louis looks right now.

Harry can see Louis talk before he hears him.

“Harry, I—”

“I wish you’d told me sooner, Louis.” Harry shakes his head, interrupting Louis. He doesn’t want to hear what he has to say right now.

Louis doesn’t attempt to say another word for the rest of the ride home and Harry closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to torture himself by staring helplessly at the reflection in the window.

  


Harry wakes up Saturday morning with Louis’ arms wrapped around him because they’re like that and can’t help it, even if they’re upset with each other. They tried their best to fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed, the gap between them the largest it's ever been, but they still gravitated towards each other in their sleep. Even when they were little boys, just best friends having sleepovers together in their matching Buzz Lightyear pajamas, they would be joined at the hip—little six year old Harry cuddled against a protective eight year old Louis.  

Out of the two of them, Harry’s always first to wake up. He usually lets himself stay cuddled in the heat of Louis’ arms waiting for Louis to slowly and grumpily wake up, but this morning, Harry can’t stand the heat. Louis’ arms feel constricting and Harry would rather be anywhere else than in his embrace right now. He removes himself, not even trying to be gentle with the sleeping Louis, and switches his pajamas for workout clothes.

Harry frowns to himself as he strips off the clothes he slept in. He hasn’t worn clothes to bed in _ages._ He and Louis usually sleep naked, but last night they both silently agreed that touching bare skin to bare skin felt way too intimate for their current situation.

Harry leaves a sleeping Louis in their bed, making his way out the front door to escape how suffocating their home feels and takes a run around their neighborhood in the early morning light.

Harry knows that this weekend will be the worst two days of his life ever. Harry has no excuse for going to the school on a weekend and Louis never goes into the office on Saturdays or Sundays. So they avoid each other as they go about their daily routines.

Harry makes breakfast for himself and Louis. They eat together in silence, ignoring each other. Harry spends the morning in the kitchen distracting himself with writing out lesson plans for as many days as he can. He forces himself to tirelessly plan out lessons for _weeks_ from now, and his tactic works because he doesn’t once have to go into the living room all morning, meaning he doesn’t have to interact with Louis.

They see each other at noon for lunch when Louis silently pads into the kitchen to make them both ham and cheese sandwiches, which Louis eats on the couch, leaving Harry in the same spot he’s been at all morning in the kitchen. When Harry can no longer stare at agendas and lists and lessons and mock quizzes, he decides to clean up his sea of papers and then clean the whole kitchen before he makes dinner. They see each other again when the spaghetti and meatballs Harry cooked up is ready. The meal is consumed, again in silence, and Harry finishes before Louis on purpose so he can leave him to do the washing up. Then Harry takes a long, hot bath, with the door locked, the lights off, five candles burning, and Coldplay playing quietly in the background.

Harry decides to crawl into bed after his bath, not even bothering to say goodnight to his boyfriend, but instead searching through his closet until he finds one of Louis’ old, beat up t-shirts from college. Harry throws it on, bittersweetly enjoying its smell as he falls into a fitful sleep.

  


Sunday is much of the same. Harry claims the living room before Louis can, lounging across the couch watching the reruns of Star Trek: Next Generation that _always_ seem to be playing on BBC America. He doesn’t know what Louis spends his day doing, but Louis finally does leave the house eventually. He speaks up for the first time in days, his voice music to Harry’s ears—soft, quiet, and the tiniest bit broken. Louis stares at the ground before he walks out, telling the floor rather than Harry that he’s going out to do some grocery shopping. Harry has no clue why. Louis will be flung into space Wednesday afternoon, he doesn’t need buy himself any more food than they already have.

Harry does take advantage of Louis’ absence though, using the time to call his boss. Harry regretfully informs Principal Friedman that he won’t be able to come into school Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday due to family matters. He lets her know that he’ll be able to send lesson plans for whoever does come in to sub for him. He hates that for the first time in his career he’ll need a substitute teacher to cover for him, but he knows he has to at least miss one day of school for the launch, and he knows for a fact he’ll need a few days to recover from the emotions he’ll be going through.

Harry knows on Wednesday, he will probably have to wake up early enough so he can wake up Louis. They will probably drive to the site of the launch in silence, finally separating and going their separate ways with messy and tearful kisses. If they do, it’ll be the first kisses they’ve shared since Friday evening. Harry will go to the observation platform and watch Louis take flight.

Louis isn’t even gone yet and Harry already misses him terribly.

The rest of Sunday, after Louis finally comes back home with a few grocery bags on his arms, is spent together, but alone. They sit together in living room, Harry still stretched across the entire sofa and Louis curled up under a blanket on the armchair. They silently watch their shows together, the thought that Harry will have to continue watching them without Louis by his side depressingly crossing his mind.

When dinnertime comes around, Louis beats Harry to the kitchen. He stares pointedly at Harry until Harry sits back on the couch, stunned that Louis is taking over dinner tonight and that he’s (hopefully) making real food rather than picking up a laminated tri-fold menu and ordering in.

Louis cooks the one and only meal he can flawlessly cook. It’s a meal that means a lot to them as a couple. It’s a meal that symbolizes their love for each other and Louis knew exactly what he was doing when he made this dinner for Harry tonight.

Harry remembers the first time Louis cooked for him. Harry had came home completely drained from work, not wanting to talk, not wanting to eat, not wanting to do _anything._ He just buried himself beneath the covers and swore he would never reemerge. And he didn’t, until Louis sat beside him on the bed, gently ran his hand down his spine, and urged his lethargic body out from under the sheets. Louis was the softest he had ever been with Harry as he led him to the dining room where a steaming hot meal was laid out on the table, candles lit and _HL Mixtape #1_ soft in the background. But Louis could tell Harry didn’t have the energy to sit at the table for a meal, so they sat on the floor of the living room, slowly eating off the same plate as they cuddled impossibly close. Louis told Harry he loved him that night and ever since, that meal and memories tied with it are Harry’s favorite.

So Harry tries his best not to cry while eating his chicken wrapped in parma ham and his side of homemade mash, but that plan fails. Louis is trying to say something by making this for Harry, Harry _knows_ Louis is trying to say something, but Harry doesn’t want to listen. He still feels the sting of betrayal and what Louis did can’t be easily forgiven.

That night, they lay in bed in the dark, so far apart from each other on the mattress that it physically pains Harry. They’re quiet as they lay on their backs and stare at the ceiling. They haven’t said one word to each other since Friday. Harry’s afraid that his students will be able to hear the disuse of his voice tomorrow in class.  

After a long time, Harry guesses Louis has finally fallen asleep. Harry’s just about to drop off into unconsciousness too, but then he hears Louis’ scratchy, delicate voice. It’s so quiet, Harry thinks it’s a dream, but he knows it’s not.

“I love you, Harry. More than anything.”

Harry cries himself to sleep, his tears quiet and undetectable.

  


Monday and Tuesday are spent avoiding each other and Harry’s hurting.

They wake up with each other, their schedules having always been synced like that. Going about their morning routine together is rough. They do everything together but separate. They skirt around each other in the bathroom, they turn their backs as they change clothing. They sometimes bump into each other and every time their skin briefly touches, sparks fly. Every touch causes to Harry feel electrified by the mixture of nervous energy, sexual tensions, anger, and sadness.

Harry stays at school for as long as possible, volunteering to help his students after school on some of their projects or to be available to lend a hand to the robotics team. Louis also stays at the office for as long as possible, putting in long nights in preparation for the mission. Harry knew this would happen, it did the last few times, but this time around the separation is worse.

By the time Louis gets home, Harry’s already asleep in bed. Well. On Monday night he is, but on Tuesday night, sleep just can’t seem to pull him under. The launch is tomorrow and Harry’s nerves are keep him extremely on edge.

When Harry hears the front door open, he knows Louis has finally come home to a dark house and a sleeping (or so he thinks) Harry. Harry pretends to fall asleep when Louis quietly pushes open their bedroom door. He listens as Louis goes about his nightly routine of a quick shower, skin and dental care, and changing out of his clothes. Although he doesn’t hear Louis slip on pajamas, causing Harry to slightly panic. Harry didn’t put on pajamas either; he wanted his last night in bed with Louis to be just like every other night. He wanted that normalcy back and it seems so does Louis. The thought of it makes Harry simply want to sob.

They lie naked under the covers in their bed together, Harry pretending to be asleep. Harry’s lucky he decided to lie with his back turned to Louis so his face won’t give him away when Louis starts talking.

He starts by clearing his throat and when he speaks, it’s not in whisper—he doesn’t want what he’s saying to be a secret. He’s talking because he wants Harry to hear him; he’s hoping that Harry’s sleeping mind can hear him. Little does he know that Harry is actually wide awake and is hanging on to every word he says.

“Harry, my sweet baby. I love you so much. I hope you know that. I hope you always know that.” He pauses to take a deep, shaky breath.

“I didn’t tell you that I was offered the mission because I didn’t want it. Please understand that. They offered it to me months ago and I said no, but once Malik—that fucker, I can’t believe he busted his hand up. Once Malik got hurt, they needed someone else and I was that someone else, baby. I didn’t want to do it, but I knew I needed to because if I didn’t, the mission wouldn’t be a go—I was the only one qualified enough to replace him. I’ve been working on this mission for months and I couldn’t waste all my hard work—all my colleagues’ hard work. It was me or nobody.

“I was gonna tell you as soon as I knew I was going up, but then you made plans to have a fancy dinner on Friday night. And in my mind, I was like _cool, I’ll tell Harry the then._ I was so set on telling you about the mission at dinner on Friday night, so when Friday came, I was _dying_ to go home to you, but then I was pulled into a meeting. Apparently, it was urgent and important. And Harry, that meeting broke my heart.”

Louis stops to calm himself down, his breathing hectic and fast. Even though Harry can’t see, he bets his hands are shaking uncontrollably. Louis’ hands are one of the most talented, steady, and precise pair of hands at NASA; nothing, literally nothing causes them shake. Nothing except for Harry.

“What you don’t know,” Louis’ voice cracks as he speaks, “is that this launch was scheduled for a month and a half from now. _A month and a half._ In just five minutes, that meeting completely _erased_ that month and a half.” Harry’s heart breaks because he can tell that Louis is crying.

“They told me they pushed the launch to Wednesday. I was so fucking gutted, Harry. I yelled at those assholes. How dare they push forwards a mission launch that soon? They fucking told me on Friday, Harry. _That’s_ why you didn’t know I was leaving so soon—because _I_ didn’t know I was leaving that soon. And it fucking sucks, okay?” Louis’ sobbing at this point, his breathing heavy, his voice hiccupy. His whole body is vibrating and Harry’s naked body can feel it rattling the mattress under them and the covers above them.  

Harry’s mind flashes back to Friday. Louis had come home with a bouquet of flowers, he was extremely nervous most of the night. All the fucking signs were there for Harry and he ignored them all.

“That night. _God,_ that night. I had to tell you I was leaving in five days rather than a month and a half. And you were going to propose.” Louis laughs bitterly. “You were going to ask to marry me that night! The same night I was telling you that I was going to be leaving you. It was the worst night of my life. I can’t believe I did that to you.”

Harry wants to cry. He wants to hold Louis as Louis cries. He wants to be held by Louis as he cries. None of what has happened to them is fair. None of it. It hurts Harry so much and it hurts so much more that Louis is telling him all of this now, the night before he’s launched into space.

The bed shifts and Harry freezes, trying his best to pretend to be asleep. He hears Louis’ footsteps walk around their bed and for a second, he thinks Louis is going to leave him right here and right now, but instead he stops right in front of Harry. Harry hears him drop to his knees so his face is inches from Harry’s face. It takes every ounce of self control that Harry has to stay completely still.

“I love you, Harry.” Louis whispers, planting a sweet kiss to Harry’s smooth forehead. He hears Louis put something on his bedside table, but he doesn’t dare open his eyes to see what it is. He doesn’t even breathe until Louis is back in bed beside him. He waits until Louis is asleep and when he finally is, he rolls over and pulls Louis into his arms. It’s their last night together and there is no way Harry’s not going to spend it not cuddled up to the love of his life.

Their naked skin touching for the first time in almost a week is more therapeutic than it is intoxicating. It’s the best feeling in the world and it’s the last time Harry’s going to feel it for a year.

  


When Harry wakes up the next morning, the light shining in his face is all wrong. On any normal day, Harry wakes up before the sun even has a chance to reach their bedroom windows. It’s extremely confusing to be waking up with the sun in his face and his naked body cold.

Harry’s eyes snap open, his body bolting straight up in bed. He’s alone. The sun is making its presence known. Louis isn’t here. They have a launch to get to and Louis isn’t here and Harry overslept. They’re going to miss the launch.

Harry jumps out of bed, not even caring about his naked bits flopping around. He runs to the master bathroom, not finding Louis showering like he expected. He checks the kitchen, which is also void of Louis’ presence. He searches and searches for Louis, but the whole house is empty. Harry is the only one here.

Louis is gone.

An intense feeling of loneliness washes over Harry’s body, his skin prickling with goosebumps.

Harry runs back to their bedroom, hoping Louis is just joking with him. The first thing he notices as he comes to a stop by the foot of their bed is that the alarm clock on his bedside table reads 10:28. The launch was scheduled to happen right before nine. Harry was planning on waking up at five so he and Louis could get ready and drive to the launch site with plenty of time to spare. Harry missed the launch. Louis didn’t wake him up.

Harry doesn’t know what to do, but then his eyes find what Louis put on his table last night. Harry walks towards his side of the bed slowly, his eyes never straying from the object Louis delicately placed on his bedside table last night as he kissed Harry’s forehead.

Harry reaches out for the ring box, the delicate and oh so familiar velvet fabric tickling his fingertips. He picks it up carefully, like it’s a ticking timebomb counting down the seconds until it’s going to explode. Once it’s sitting daintily in his palm, he just looks at it. He’s too afraid to open it and check, but he’s even more afraid of not opening it and checking.

Harry feels like he’s going to throw up as he slowly opens the box, its hinges snapping the lid open. Harry closes his eyes, still not ready to see if there’s anything in the box or not.

He sits on the bed before opening eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He’s only been awake for five minutes and already so much has happened. Harry overslept, searched every corner of his house for his missing boyfriend, came to the conclusion that Louis isn’t even on this planet anymore, and found the ring box that he left in front of Louis on the table of the restaurant before he dramatically stormed out. This ring box held so many promises in it—promises of their future together, promises of the family they would build one day. Now Harry isn’t sure what this box holds anymore. For all Harry knows, the ring could still be inside.

He takes another deep breath and opens his eyes. The ring box is empty.

Louis is wearing the ring. Louis took the ring with him to space.

Harry can no longer hold his body up so he collapses onto their bed. He’s still naked, he’s still cold, and he’s still lonely. He lets himself cry until he exhausts himself and falls back asleep.  

  


Taking Thursday and Friday off was a good decision on Harry’s part. After being awake for more than five minutes on Thursday, Harry knows that calling in and asking for next week off too is an even better decision.

Harry has just been… feeling like shit.

After sleeping all of Wednesday, Harry woke up at ten at night with hunger rattling his body. He cried at the kitchen table as he ate chicken wrapped in parma ham leftovers. He cried as he watched the newest episode of Face Off, one of their favorite shows to watch together, when Louis’ favorite contestant got sent home. He cried when he couldn’t fall asleep in his own bed, the smell of Louis sticking to the sheets.

Thursday isn’t much better. Harry wakes up around noon after a restless night featuring nightmares of Louis falling to the Earth in a fiery haze, and makes the call to ask for all of next week off. After confirming that a sub will cover for him, Harry forwards all the lesson plans and then promptly turns off every personal electronic device he owns.

He powers his phone off and tucks it into the drawer of Louis’ bedside table, knowing that he wouldn’t be tempted to remove it from that spot anytime soon. He turns his laptop off and locks it away in their shared home office, knowing that he definitely won’t be tempted to go rummaging around in that space.

He tries to avoid what he did the other night. Instead of leftovers for dinner, he orders pizza from Roma’s, but when they answer the phone, they recognize the number and think it’s Louis who is calling because he’s the one who always orders for them. Harry can’t even tell them that they’re wrong before he hangs up and starts sobbing into the sleeve of the too warm sweater he threw on. Next, he tries to watch the rerun of RuPaul’s Drag Race that is currently on. He feels like it’s safe enough to watch without an emotional breakdown, unlike the new episode of Face Off from last night. Season 9 is already over, he and Louis already watched it together, hopefully nothing will catch him off guard.

It’s not until the end of the episode and the lip sync that Harry realizes that he’s watching the episode where Valentina gets sent home. It’s the absolute _worst_ episode possible he could have put on. This episode is one of Louis’ favorites. He always talks over it, giving his own running commentary. And as Harry sits on the couch alone watching, the living room sounds oddly quiet without Louis mocking Valentina’s _“I’d like to keep it on, please.”_

Harry shuts the TV off before the first notes of Ariana Grande’s _Greedy_ can play. He decides it’s time for bed and as he brushes his teeth, he refuses to look at himself and the tears steadily streaming down his face in the mirror.

On Friday, Harry decides to just stay in bed. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t shower or even put on any clothes. He just lies in bed, bare and completely useless. He stares at the ceiling and soon enough his eyes go dry from not blinking. He turns completely over and plants his face into his pillow, keeping his eyes closed. He doesn’t sleep—he doesn’t think he’d be able to. He just breathes slowly as his mind wanders.

Sometimes he wonders about what’s happening in his classroom at this very moment. Sometimes he thinks about what Louis is up to. Sometimes he feels tempted enough to go get his laptop, turn it on, and check Skype to see if Louis ever came online to see the fifty or so messages Harry had left for him on Wednesday. Sometimes Harry just wants to give up.

On Saturday, Harry decides he doesn’t want to give up.

He didn’t get much sleep, but he still wakes up early. He spends the entire morning cleaning the house until it's spotless. Then he showers, puts on real clothes, and puts together a small knapsack that includes some extra clothes and his wallet. Just after two o’clock, he ties on a pair of beat up pink Converse, grabs a bunch of spare blankets from the linen closet, and takes his car keys off the hook in the kitchen. Harry leaves his and Louis’ house dark and quiet. He takes one last look inside before he slams the door behind him, locking it up.

The first thing he does once he hits the road is drive south, heading for the closest Wawa. There aren’t many in Florida, but he grew up with them around every corner in Pennsylvania. He almost feels like he’s back at home as he fills his almost empty gas tank all the way to the top. It makes him feel an eerie type of calm. He makes his way into the convenience store to stock up on enough food for the entire day and as he’s searching through the aisles, an idea hits him. He buys a portable gas tank and fills that up too. He decides he’s going to drive until his car runs out of gas or until he finds a suitable location for his wallowing. Whichever comes first.

Harry continues to drive south, hugging the coast as much as possible.

He keeps all the windows down, letting the violent wind whip his hair around. He goes just a bit over the speed limit, without caring, although he should. The wind is brutal as a result and it stings his face as he drives. His hair blinds him occasionally, but, again, he doesn’t really care. He’s been feeling numb since Wednesday and the pain at least reminds him he’s still alive.

The ocean to his left is a brilliant shade of blue, the sand white and blinding. The cliffs to his right are tall and dangerous, occasionally covered in that special kind of seaside grass. He ignores the other cars that he passes. Honestly, he doesn’t even really notice their presence. The skies above him mimic the color of the water, bright and saturated. There’s not a single cloud and the sun is already hot. Harry refuses to turn the air conditioning on, knowing that the car still smells like Louis. If he rolls up the windows, his smell would stay trapped and would torture Harry. Instead, the air smells like a mixture of salt and gasoline and usually it would irk the living hell out of Harry, but like everything else, he just ignores it. As long as it doesn’t smell like Louis. The car vibrates endlessly under him as he steers along the curves of the road, the waves and the tires acting as the soundtrack to Harry’s adventure—his getaway.

Harry drives until hunger forces him to pull over at a tiny tourist picnic table on the side of the road. The lookout spot has a particularly nice view, but it’s one that Harry sees constantly, living in Florida, so he doesn’t pay much attention to it.

He spends more time off the road than he would’ve liked and after a quick pee into the bushes, Harry’s back in the car, driving south. He drives until he’s hungry again, the sun starting to set for the day. He stays in his car to eat this time, only pulling over to the side of the road to quickly chew something down. His gas is getting low and he’s already driven down the full coast of the state. The direction he’s heading in is towards Key West, but he knows for a fact he won’t be able to reach there.

He drives and drives and drives until the cotton candy watercolor skies turn into a messy shade of inky blue. His headlights guide him along the contours of the road, the water on his left still as steady as it was earlier in the day. The moon is bright and full, making its presence known.

He drives until he’s on his last drop of gas, ending up in Islamorada. He finds a beach just by luck, with a tiny parking lot attached to it. Harry pulls in and finally cuts the engine off. He sits in the darkness for quite some time, reflecting on how he drove 267 miles in just about six hours. His Jeep Grand Cherokee doesn’t have as many miles per tank as other sports utility cars do, but he loves his car nonetheless.

Finally, Harry pulls himself out of his car, bringing along an armful of blankets. He heads towards the sand, passing a sign along the way.

 _Anne’s Beach,_ it reads. Seeing his mother’s name causes a quick pang a sadness in Harry’s chest. _Mile Marker 73.5. Public Beach. Hours: 7 AM - 7 PM._ The dashboard clock in Harry’s car had told him it was getting closer and closer to nine. He ignores the sign with a shrug and makes his way onto the beach. He finds a suitable spot where he’s not visible from the road and lays out his blankets, telling himself he’ll spend one or two hours under the stars until he needs to pack up, refuel with his portable tank, find an actual gas station, and then finally make his way home.

Harry lays himself out under the stars and he stares at the sky.

Stargazing is one of Harry and Louis’ favorite activities to do together. They pointed at the stars from the roof of Harry’s house as little boys, they watched the sky from the balcony of their tiny apartment in college, they made love for the first time in a tiny faraway field under the omniscient stare of the galaxy above them after sharing a midnight picnic together. It’s something special that he and Louis hold close to their hearts and it never fails to make him feel better.

So whenever Harry feeling is down or particularly sad, he likes to sit under the stars and let their light heal him. He finds it quite funny that he drove 267 miles to stargaze from the shore of some random beach he’s never been to before when he could’ve done it from the one closest to their house. He reasons with himself that he would’ve felt even more lonely without Louis there by his side; doing _their_ favorite activity at _their_ favorite beach without his other half present would feel all kinds of wrong to Harry.

He stares at the sky.

The night is clear and Harry is able to pick out constellations instantly. He catalogues them all in his head, sometimes whispering their names out loud, just to keep his mind occupied and distracted from thinking about… other things.

Harry remembers the night the he and Louis came out to each other with an eerie clarity. He remembers looking at the stars, just like he is now, and asking Louis a question. He still remembers the question and Louis’ answer to this day.

“How many nights does it take to count the stars?” Harry repeats his younger self out loud.

He tries. He tries to count the stars in the sky. He wants to prove Louis wrong now more than ever. _One, two, three, four._

“How many nights does it take to count the stars?” This time, when he asks again, to no one but himself, his voice is a whisper. Harry really wishes he knew the answer. _Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen._

“Infinity,” Louis had answered all those years back. _Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine._

As Harry counts and counts each tiny blinking star in the night sky, he thinks he finally reaches an answer to prove Louis wrong.

“That’s the time it would take to fix my heart,” Harry whispers into the night sky.

The sudden admission stings, the light from the stars and moon burning Harry’s eyes. He closes them quickly, hiding away his green irises. He knows if he were to open them and look back at the sky, he wouldn’t be looking at the stars anymore, he’d be looking straight into Louis’ stunning blue eyes.

What Harry whispers into the night sky is the truth and he knows it, but he doesn’t want Louis to know, and admitting it to the stars feels awfully like he’s admitting it to Louis.

Harry’s head spins. He feels like he might throw up. Louis could be looking down at him right this very second and judge how much of a mess Harry has become. Suddenly, laying out on the sand of this random beach under the same stars he fell in love with Louis under becomes too much all at once. He feels exposed and raw.

He gets back on Overseas Highway and drives back in the direction he came, fully intending on driving home, but not even a minute later, he comes across a tiny resort. He pulls into the parking lot. He sits in the dark compartment of his car, breathing heavily, thinking this could be the worst decision he’s ever made. As he lies in bed that night in the little studio he paid for, he knows he was right.  

On Sunday, Harry doesn’t leave his room.

On Monday, Harry sneaks back out to Anne’s Beach once the sun goes down, a fifteen minute walk from where he’s staying at the Caloosa Cove Resort. Tourists and locals are settling in for the night, the sound of cars and screaming children morphing into the quiet crash of waves and the occasional passing of a car.

Harry attempts to lay under the stars again. He talks to them like he would Louis.

“Oh, baby, I was there for you. I will always be there for you. I just wish you were here for me, right now. All I ever wanted was the truth. Yeah. When you told me about this mission, it didn’t feel like the truth.”

The sand is soft under the blanket, but Harry’s back still twinges in pain. He’s always had a bad back—one reason he could never be an astronaut. The moon isn’t as full as it was last night, but it still watches over Harry knowingly. Harry syncs his breathing with the roll of the waves, every crash onto the shore an exhale from his nose. A slight gust of wind breezes through, Harry shivering in the chill of it. The air tastes slightly salty on Harry’s tongue, but his nose burns from it.

“How many nights have you wished someone would stay?” Harry asks the stars, voice soft and low, almost like he’s afraid to speak up. Harry doesn’t have an answer and neither do any of the celestial bodies above him.

  


Harry wakes up Sunday morning, still tired from his long drive back home the previous day, remembering that he goes back to work tomorrow. His week long pity party and sob sessions have finally come to an end. He tries to spend the day as he would any other normal day. He does a (pathetically small) load of laundry, scrubs down the bathroom, handwashes all the dirty dishes instead of loading them into the dishwasher, vacuums each room of the house twice, dusts things that don’t need dusting, and changes the sheets on the bed even though they’ve barely been slept on since the last time he changed them.

He blasts feel good music from eight in the morning to four in the afternoon. Some highlights include Bruno Mars’ _That’s What I Like,_ Shania Twain’s _Man! I Feel Like A Woman,_ and Carly Rae Jepsen’s _Cut To The Feeling._ Unfortunately he has to skip some favorites like Spice Girls’ _Wannabe_ and Vanessa Carlton’s _A Thousand Miles_ because they hit home way too hard, making Louis’ absence much more noticeable than Harry would like it to be. He belts out lyrics as he runs around the house, distracting himself by completing the most stupid tasks possible.

After a long, hot bath (in which he used three bath bombs), Harry decides to make a large elaborate dinner for himself. He goes grocery shopping for the ingredients and decides to make a fancy recipe he’s been wanting to try out of the cookbook his sister had gifted him for his birthday.

Harry eats his hearty meal alone, a bottle of red wine his only companion. He drinks half a glass full as he eats, but after doing the washing up, he decides to polish the rest of the bottle off. He grabs a clean blanket from the linen closet and takes it with his bottle of wine to the backyard.

When Harry and Louis finally decided to look for a house for themselves, they had a list of demands—a place they could turn into a home, some place with two floors, preferably. At the top of that list was a backyard and clear skies so they could stargaze from home—no need to drive to a field or a beach miles away from them.

The sun hasn’t set yet, so Harry tries to distract himself. There are certain things he won’t let himself think about in the light of day and he’s tempted to let his mind wander there, but he stops himself. He picks a safe topic to let his mind occupy itself with, like how his students have fared after eight days without him. He prays that they didn’t cause the substitute teacher a headache and that they’re at least semi on track with the lesson plans he provided. He feels quite irresponsible for ditching his job—his responsibility like he did, but he knows he wouldn’t have been able to function at school in the state he was in. He would be worse off than his students—his seniors would have probably been more capable of leading his class of freshman than he. Harry hates to admit it. He feels capable enough to go back again tomorrow though, and that’s all that matters.

Once the sun is tucked well under the horizon, Harry gives freedom to his mind to wander to those forbidden places and he lets himself drink more heavily from the bottle. He starts the night like he always does, identifying the constellations he can see and cataloguing them in his head.

Honestly, Harry doesn’t do much thinking as he drains the bottle of red. He lets himself marinate in his hazy headspace as he shivers in the slight chill of the night air. The rustle of leaves harmonizes with the chirps of crickets as the sounds fill the air around Harry. The night smells distinctly like Florida—a smell you just know and can’t describe. It smells like home and Harry thinks that this is the first time he has ever wished it didn’t. _Home._ It feels a bit like a joke as he thinks about it because his home isn’t even on this planet right now.

“How many nights have you wished someone would stay?” Harry asks the stars, voice soft and low. He’s afraid to speak up. But Harry does have an answer this time and the celestial bodies above him listen closely.

Harry has spent every night for the past week and a half wishing his someone would have stayed with him. He has spent _more_ than every night wishing. He has spent every morning, every day, every afternoon, every night wishing that Louis would have stayed on Earth with him.

When Harry speaks next, he’s not afraid anymore. “How many nights have you wished someone would stay? How many night have you lied awake only hoping they’re okay?” Harry’s breathing is heavy and rough. He knows he’s working himself into a frenzy, but he knows he needs to let it all out before he attempts to go back to his life.

“I’ve never counted all of mine, but if I tried, I know it would feel like infinity.”

The amount of time it would take to count the stars is the same amount of time it would take to fix Harry’s heart. Infinity.

The amount of time Harry spends thinking about Louis, wishing for his return, hoping for his safety is the same amount of time it would take to count all those endless days and nights. Infinity.

Harry misses Louis so much. He wishes he would have stayed.

What Harry doesn’t know though, is that 220 miles above Earth, traveling at 17,227 miles per hour, Louis is missing Harry just as much. Louis wishes he would have stayed more than Harry wishes he did.

They both lie awake at night thinking of one another. They are worlds apart from each other. They may spend their days thinking that their lives are ruined because of some uncontrollable NASA mistake, but all that is important is that they’re always thinking about each other, no matter what.

  


Harry is… not coping. Not at all. He thought going back to work, back to the school and back to his students, would help him. He thought it would pick him back up, give him the kick in the ass he needs, and set him back on track. Instead, it has done the complete opposite.  

Harry’s students give him looks of pity—all the time. Harry’s eight day absence hadn’t gone unnoticed by the entire school; gossip in a high school spreads quicker than a wildfire in the middle of a dry summer. And Harry’s attitude now that he’s finally back in school hasn’t gone unnoticed either. There are whispers amongst all grades that the quirky, fun engineering teacher has changed—for the worse.

It’s only Harry’s first day back and he’s already hearing whispers from the girls in the back of one of his classes that his undereye bags have gotten significantly darker and droopier. His colleagues throw him concerned glances as he sits in the communal space in the office rather than his classroom during his free period. His seniors have to gently correct him more than a few times on errors he makes on the front board as his mind wanders mid lecture. His favorite students that usually spend their lunch in his classroom try extra hard to make him laugh with their anecdotes and weekend stories. The robotics team has to beg him to leave the meeting after school to finally go home.

“Mr. Styles, we’ve finished our meeting. You should go home, you’re looking like you had a rough day,” Michelle says conversationally, voice easy although Harry knows she’s riddled with worry for him.

Harry shrugs noncommittally though. “It’s no big deal, Michelle. The more people that help clean up, the faster we can get home.”

“No offense,” Brandon snorts, “but we can get done way faster without you standing around here, Styles.”

Harry doesn’t take offense to his statement. He knows it’s the truth, he just doesn’t want it to be.

He swallows the lump in his throat and stares at his shoes as he quickly escapes his classroom, heading in the direction of the staff bathroom on his floor.

“Look what you’ve done now, dickhead!” Harry hears Michelle whisper-scream at Brandon right before the door closes behind him and cuts off all other sound.

The hallways of the high school are deserted as it’s almost six at night on a Monday. The overhead lights are dimmed and all the classrooms are dark and locked up until the morning. Harry’s lone footsteps echo and he drags himself towards the bathroom.

Once he’s finally alone, Harry lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He splashes cold water over his face. He hates that he thought he could do this. He thought he could go a whole day without thinking about Louis. He thought he would be able to succeed, but failure was around every corner.

On Harry’s desk is a framed picture of him, Louis, and their moms from Jay and Dan’s wedding. The moment he sat at his desk this morning the sight of the photo scared him. Throughout all of first period, he couldn’t help but think about Louis. As his first period class was leaving and his second period class was filtering through the door, he quickly hid the photo in one of his drawers, finally clearing his mind and getting back on track. But as soon as he started talking about the forces of drag and lift on planes and rockets to his second period class, thoughts of Louis came rushing back to him. Harry was distracted the whole day by Louis—he couldn’t catch a break.

And even now, as he splashes cold water over the skin of his overheated face, he can’t help but think of Louis.

When Harry finally catches his breath and somewhat clears his mind, he slowly drags himself back down the hallway to his classroom. The hallways have gotten increasingly darker, most of the light in the hallway spilling out of his classroom instead of coming from the now dimmed overhead lights.

He walks into his classroom only to find it completely clean and deserted. Deserted except for Michelle who is sitting on the top of the lab bench, her feet resting in the chair in front of her. At the sight of Harry, she perks up, out of her slouch and smiles hesitantly.

“Everyone went home. I volunteered to make sure _you_ go home, too.”

Harry chuckles lightly as he passes her. He quickly wipes his notes off the whiteboard before rounding his desk. He slowly gathers his items, eyebrows furrowed. He goes through his drawers to make sure he has everything important, but he freezes at the sight of the picture frame staring back at him—the same one he hidden away earlier. He lets out a pained whimper. How could he hide away such an important piece of him like that? He quickly snatches the frame out of the drawer and reverently places it back in the empty spot on his desk.

“Um,” a quiet voice hums. Harry flinches at the sound of it; he’d completely forgotten that he wasn’t alone. Michelle is still sitting on top of the lab bench staring at Harry, her eyes wide and sad. “Are you okay, Mr. Styles?” Her voice is impossibly soft and Harry wants to just tell her _everything._ He should tell someone. How could he tell a student, though? Isn’t that crossing some line?

“Mr. Styles,” Michelle repeats. “If you don’t mind me pointing it out… I think you’re not okay. You did just come back from a long time off. Were you sick? Are you still sick? Did you come back too early? You do know that you have a reputation for still coming to school even when you’re sick, right? Are you taking care of yourself?”

All of Michelle’s questions cause Harry to chuckle. He hasn’t had someone dote on him like this in a while. It’s a funny feeling.

In Harry’s classroom, he likes the care to go both ways. Harry always asks his students about their weekend, their life—he genuinely wants to know how they are, he genuinely wants to cultivate meaningful relationships with his students. His students don’t have to care about him or his life, but they do and he’s so completely grateful for that. They learn from him everyday and it’s only fair if he learns from them too.

“I don’t mind… but, um, to answer your questions: I wasn’t sick, I’m not currently sick, and I think I did come back too early. I don’t think I’m taking care of myself.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry pauses to think. He shakes his head no.

Michelle smiles sadly.

They pack up their things in silence and leave the classroom together, Harry turning out the lights behind him and locking the door. Their footsteps echo out of sync as they walk down the linoleum tiled hallways, the inharmonious sound causing Harry to cringe.

As they walk down the three flights of stairs together, Michelle finally speaks up. “The launch two Wednesdays ago. Was that.” Michelle pauses. Harry chances a quick glance at her face, her features screwed up tight, thinking hard. “Was that your Louis?”

They reach the bottom of the stairs and go towards the front door. They exit the building together, walking into the night. The fresh air feels nice filling Harry’s lungs; it feels revitalizing on his overheated skin. They stop before they part ways, Michelle looking at her favorite teacher and Harry avoiding the eye contact of his favorite student.

“Yeah,” he whispers so, so quietly.

Michelle surprises Harry by hugging him quick and tight. “Take care of yourself, Mr. Styles. Have a good night.”

  


By the end of the week, Harry is drained. He still thinks about Louis obsessively. But honestly, who _wouldn’t_ think about their boyfriend obsessively if they were up in space, floating miles above their head?

His mom says his eyes don’t shine anymore during their facetime conversation Friday night after dinner. Harry simply shrugs off his mother’s comments, pretending she’s worrying about him a little bit too much. But as Harry stares at his reflection in the mirror after he’s gone through his nightly routine, he understands where her concern came from.

He lies in his big empty bed and tries to think about where his shine went. And then it hits him.

Eyes can’t shine unless there’s something burning bright behind.

Ever since Louis went away, there’s nothing left in him. There’s nothing left in Harry to keep him shining. Harry wonders if he’ll ever get his shine back. Will Harry be able to get his shine back after a whole year of Louis’ absence? Harry’s only gone seventeen days without Louis so far and he already feels himself running out of time. What will he feel like after 365 days without Louis?

  


The tiny little velvet box mocks Harry from where it’s sitting on his bedside table. It’s been driving him insane for weeks, for _months._ Everyday when he wakes up, everyday when he goes to bed, he can’t help but stare at the gentle texture of the ring box, the same texture that his fingertips used to have memorized. He wants to touch it. He wants to so badly, but he’s scared. He’s scared that if he touches it, all the painful and unwanted memories will come flooding back—the same memories he’s been desperately trying to keep under lock and key for the past three months.

Whenever Harry steps foot in his bedroom (he’s only recently started referring to it as _his_ rather than _theirs)_ after a long day, it’s with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart. The absence of Louis in Harry’s life is too much to bear some days. Some days Harry can’t fathom that Louis is gone—nothing in their house is missing, it still looks the same, it still smells the same. Other days, it’s obvious that Louis is gone—so obvious that Harry thinks he’ll _never_ come back. Those are the days Harry hates, the days where he thinks he should throw the box away, pack up all of Louis’ things and hide them away.

Harry _hates_ those days.

He sits on the edge of the bed and finally takes the tiny, royal blue box in his hands. As he rolls the box back and forth between his palms, his mind runs a million miles a minute. He tells himself that Louis _is_ coming back. The ring _is_ currently on Louis Tomlinson’s finger—or on a chain around his neck, Harry isn’t sure which way Louis has chosen to wear it—in space on the International Space Station. The stress Harry carries on his shoulders multiples tenfold as the tiny evil voice in his head begins to fight him, pointing out that he spent months looking for the perfect ring for Louis and now Louis isn’t coming back.

Harry’s heart slows down until he can hear it beating in his ears. He hates that he let himself envision a permanent future with Louis because it’s only made matters worse. He dreamed of a perfect summer, him and his new fiancée making the world theirs, but what Harry is actually experiencing now is the complete opposite. The summer is dreadful, he has no new fiancée, and the world is most certainly not his anymore. Instead, he’s surrounded by the constant panic of fighting mind: _Louis is not coming home_ versus _of course Louis is coming home, you idiot._ He closes his eyes and wishes that he wasn’t so desperately lonely, wishes that he could have the guts to open up Skype and reach out to his boyfr—his Louis. He closes his eyes and wishes he could just go back to that night. He wishes he could have Louis back. He feels like he’s stuck in motion, his wheels keep spinning round, but instead he’s moving in reverse with no way out.

Harry squeezes his eyes closed even tighter, scrunching up his face so hard it hurts. _God,_ he just wants everything to back back to normal. He just feels so pathetic. He has 275 days left until Louis is back on Earth—the least Harry could do in the meantime is pull himself together.

It sucks because Harry feels like he’s frozen in time while the world still turns around him. Louis can probably _see_ the world turning from where he is. Harry desperately wishes he could see it too.

Harry finally opens his eyes and takes one last long look at the ring box nestled in his palms. With a deep sigh, he gently places the blue velvet box back on his bedside table. His hand slightly shakes as he sets it down in the exact place at the exact angle Louis had placed it at the night before he left. He gives it one last sad look before he stands from the bed. He decides to put on a clean pair of black boxer briefs before making his way down the carpeted stairs to the kitchen to make breakfast for himself.

The kitchen used to be one of the most lively places of the house. Now, without Louis’ personality filling every corner of the space, the kitchen feels sad. All the colors look faded and gray and random appliances and gadgets are constantly being misplaced and lost for a few days at a time before Harry finds them in random spots. The kitchen used to be Harry’s own little galaxy, now it’s his own worst nightmare because it’s the only room of the house that shows how evident Louis’ presence is missed.

Harry’s bare feet pad across the tiles as he crosses the space, dirt particles sticking to his skin. He frowns as he walks, realizing it’s been quite some time since he last cleaned the kitchen. He stops in front of the sink and sadly smiles at the tiny lilac-colored radio, now covered in a light coating of dust, that rests on the windowsill above it. He would plug his phone into the dock of the radio, but it stopped working a month ago. He hasn’t had the energy or the guts to replace it. He doesn’t want to. Instead, he puts on his favorite playlist and lets it play through his phone’s speaker, low and a bit tinny sounding.

He drags himself across the kitchen, wishing he has the heart to hum along to the opening of his favorite song. He pulls out the carton of eggs from the fridge, one of the few actual food items in there, and places them on the counter next to the stovetop and David Bowie’s voice fills the kitchen.

_“This is Major Tom to Ground Control—I'm stepping through the door and I'm floating in a most peculiar way, and the stars look very different today…”_

Harry doesn’t know why he thought it would be a good idea to listen to this song. He sits on the kitchen floor, knees pulled tight to his chest, his back against the cold doors of the cabinets, goosebumps prickling his skin. He cries as his _and_ _Louis’_ favorite song attempts to fill the kitchen.

_“Though I'm past one hundred thousand miles, I'm feeling very still and I think my spaceship knows which way to go. Tell my wife I love her very much, she knows…”_

Harry doesn’t know how long he sits on the floor of the kitchen crying. He’s somewhat aware of his playlist repeating itself, but in the light of the early morning, he can’t seem to concentrate on anything except how much he misses Louis. He can’t concentrate on anything except the pain. Harry just sits on the kitchen floor in a haze.

He isn’t aware of what time it is when he finally has the strength to stand, or how long he was curled up on the floor, but from the numbness of his legs, he guesses it was quite some time. He finally attempts to make himself breakfast, a sad plate of overcooked eggs. He eats it though, not caring about the (lack of) quality and flavor, and he stares off into space.

As he monotonously chews his food, he thinks about what Louis is doing at that exact moment in time. He wonders where the International Space Station is over the planet. Is Louis exercising? Is he writing in his mandatory journal? Is he on a space walk to fix one of the things he was sent up there to fix? Is he eating? Is he laughing and joking around with the other astronauts up there with him in the ISS?

Soon enough Harry moves to the living room. He sits on the couch and stares at the blank television. He doesn’t remember the last time he turned it on. He hasn’t had the energy to watch anything. He hasn’t been in the mood to. Instead, he reaches for the well-loved paperback book sitting on the coffee table. Louis was in the middle of it when he left; his bookmark still saving his place, tucked neatly against the spine. Harry spends his days rereading it. Sometimes he can finish it in one day, sometimes he’s too tired to even read past the first page.

Today is one of those days he can’t get past the first paragraph, the words blending into one another, swirling around on the page in a nonsensical way. It’s not long before Harry’s swinging his full body onto the couch and stretching out, using the paperback that vaguely still smells like Louis as a pillow. Harry doesn’t mean to fall asleep, he knows his back will feel like crap and his head will feel even crappier when he finally wakes up, whenever that will be.

This isn’t the first time Harry’s fallen asleep on the couch like this. He knows that sometimes he wakes up exactly an hour after he closed his eyes, and that sometimes he wakes up the next day, but even with this knowledge he still lets himself drift off. It’s not like he’s letting himself forget what day it is—he can’t let himself forget what day it is. He always needs to know how many days he has gone without Louis and how many more days are left until he sees him again. It’s the only thing keeping him sane.

What finally causes Harry to rouse from his slumber, is the sound of the front door opening.

It frightens him awake. He’s the only one with a key—besides Louis, who is currently in space and will be for the next 275 days.

Harry sits up on the couch, his back protesting from the quick change of position, but Harry’s fear overpowers his pain. He doesn’t know what to do, he’s never been a part of a home invasion before. Is he supposed to hide? Confront the intruder? Surrender?

Harry is almost in full blown panic mode when he sees him. He rounds the corner, just like he’s done thousands of times before, but his hair is a touch longer and shaggier and his face is extremely scruffy. But those eyes. His eyes are the bluest Harry’s ever seen. He’s so beautiful.

He’s so beautiful, Harry thinks he is dreaming. How is it possible that Louis Tomlinson is standing in front of Harry Styles in their home, eyes rimmed with tears? Harry _has_ to be dreaming because Louis is 220 miles above Earth, traveling at 17,227 miles per hour. He’s not on Earth. That person in front of him is not Louis. He can’t possibly be here.

“It’s me, baby,” Louis chokes out. “I’m here. It’s possible, I’m here.”

Harry’s so lost for words that he’s only capable of crying. He doesn’t move from the couch, he doesn’t close his eyes, he doesn’t even breathe; he’s so afraid that any sudden movement will cause Louis to just disappear. Harry doesn’t want Louis to disappear. The thought of him leaving again causes Harry to panic and hyperventilate.

Louis lets the duffel bag that was apparently slung over his shoulder the whole time drop to the floor with a _thump._ He rushes towards Harry, kneeling on the couch next to him and wrapping him in the tightest, yet most gentle hug he’s ever been embraced in. Harry cries, and cries, and cries into Louis’ shoulder. The smell of pine and everything inherently _Louis_ floods Harry’s senses. It’s fresh and real and it smells nothing like the clothes hanging in their closet. It’s the real thing. It’s what Harry’s been craving and missing for the past 90 days.

It’s like a breath of fresh air.

Louis’ fingers push hard through Harry’s hair, gently tugging at the knots that just always seem to be present nowadays. He presses the tiniest, softest kisses to Harry’s forehead all the while whispering sweet nothings to Harry, who is slowly calming down.

“Let me look at you, baby,” Louis whispers, slowly pulling away from Harry. Harry doesn’t want to separate his face from it’s hiding place in the crook of Louis’ neck, knowing his face is puffy and gross and red from crying. He pulls away anyway, remembering he’ll be able to see Louis’ face too.

Louis’ eyes are red from his own tears and the sight of it almost makes Harry start crying again. He holds it in, though. He just lets himself _look_ at Louis. He looks at his slightly curved eyebrows, his long enchanting eyelashes, the tiny constellation of freckles on his cheek. Every little detail about Louis is beautiful and Harry doesn’t know how he survived 90 days without him.

Louis places his hands against Harry’s face, the caress feeling so normal but so extraordinary at the same time. But Harry is quickly pulled away from his daydreaming, something cold against his jaw sends shivers throughout his body.

His breath catches in his throat as he realizes the cold came from the ring that’s currently on Louis finger, sitting snug at the base. Harry chokes as he looks at it—it looks even more beautiful against Louis’ skin than he imagined. He can’t believe Louis is wearing it. He can’t believe Louis is in front of him right now.

Harry lunges for a kiss, not wasting anytime before he’s thrusting his tongue past Louis’ lips. The kiss is not at all sweet, but it is loving and full of passion and lust and sadness and _relief._ Relief that they’re finally together, Louis is finally here, Harry is finally kissing Louis.

Louis pulls away, breathing hard, but Harry doesn’t want to separate. Instead, he drags his lips down over the scruff of Louis’ jaw to the column of his throat where he continues his attack.

“Baby,” Louis pants, his words breathy whispers as his chest wildly rises and falls. “I will. I will marry you. I love you, Harry Styles. I love you so much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for reading. Please leave kudos and comments, and maybe [reblog the tumblr post](http://hrrytomlinson.tumblr.com/post/164972862885/the-world-still-turns-by-hrrytomlinson-pairing)? It would make me happy :')


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